Periods
by bigrfank07
Summary: JAM. Some Jim thoughts. Oneshot for now. Let me know if you think I should continue. Rated T just in case I add more chapters.


Periods.

The basics: JAM! This is my first fanfiction. I suppose this would be the result of not sleeping at 3 a.m. I'm not sure if this should be a "oneshot" or not so let me know of your thoughts. Stop where I am? Continue on? Of just quit all together?! Haha.

Disclaimer: I own nothing… I can only dream. )

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It was morning still.  
He let out a sigh of defeat and raised his eyes to the clock perched at the near-by wall, taunting him. How long could he go before he once again surrendered to look at the clock; praying this period in time had ended, praying for lunch. 9:45, only sixteen minutes had passed since his last glance.

Periods. He had begun to breakdown every action and moment of his life into sections, periods. For instance, from the moment he woke up he would drift though this period of awaiting his first cup of coffee.

Then came the period in which he had to wait till he could see her face, the face that he _should have _been with. Sometimes that period could be the longest. He would often wonder which top she would be wearing that morning; the light blue and white pin striped, or perhaps she splurged the night before and would show up wearing something bolder like a dark pink, possibly something other than the standard work attire? It was silly, he knew, but he couldn't help himself. He had convinced almost everyone that he was done and he was over it, except for himself of course. His guessing was seldom right anymore; it had been months since they'd seen each other. Her wardrobe had changed a bit.

Ah, yet another period he had faced; the five-month period of denial, change, and false hope in which he actually believed he could suppress _her_. A period, like the one he sat in now. The period in which his ache of wanting so desperately to tell her it all and give her everything. The section of time in which he knew was "the chance" to do something about their standstill friendship. She was finally single, and so was he.  
No. Check that. He was not single. Karen, he had almost forgotten about her.

Turning his head to the left he stole a glance of her soft face and dark hair. He swallowed hard, ashamed of his previous thoughts but nonetheless returning to them.

Karen had happened fast. In the week period of time it took for Stamford to shut down, him to pack, and Scranton to be back in his eye site he had asked her out.  
He told himself it was because she was cute, funny, and hell she was into him. He said it was because he needed to move on, because she was right for him, and because it was what he wanted.  
God could he sell that shit. His stomach churned as if to lay more guilt upon him, He knew what Karen really was for him, what she could only be for him;  
--- A replacement, a stand in, an opportunity to distance himself from the one thing he always wanted; the one thing that could rip him into a million pieces.

He fought the urge to swing his chair around and stare at her, if only for a second. If he was careful and sly enough, he could knock his pencil onto the ground and as he bent quickly sneak a peak.  
No. He remained still, eyes on the computer screen, as his stare flowed right through it. To occupy himself he started to doodle on a not-so-important memo from Michael.

After finishing his fresh work of art he sat back to admire it. Juvenile and extremely unskilled, of course, but he felt he had captured Dwight perfectly. Him dressed in an army suit, a badge with a beat plastered onto his chest, and of course a Samurai sword to top it all off. This brought along a slight smile, softly hitting his features.

Dwight, noticing this sudden smirk from his coworker and began to turn his face into a stern scowl. He rose out of his chair, slightly, trying to detect the source of Jim's newfound pleasure.

"Jim, if you are making yet another paperclip fort I will be forced to seize it and report you to Michael. Not only are you using and wasting company property for useless and indecent actions, but it is a disruption for the office."

"Bunker." Jim replied blankly, still staring at his cartoon, not bothering to prove that there were no paperclips in site.

"Excuse me?" Dwight responded a bit irritated and confused by the obviously inappropriate response.

"It was a bunker, not a fort Dwight." Jim had begun to get annoyed himself; the strain in his voice became obvious.

"Same thing."

"No, really it isn't. If it was, then why wouldn't I have just called it a fort?" Jim raised his head and eye line to meet Dwight's. His expression hardened and he frowned at him accusingly.

"Jim whatever it is, stop it right this instant." Dwight's voice rose and he stared back, hard, determined to come out triumphant.

Jim's eyebrows creased and he immediately shot back, "You cannot tell me what to do number four, I am the number two around here."

Dwight straightened up, ready to defend his honor, and plastered a smug expression onto his face " Jim, as ranking number two before your return to Scranton, I immediately descend into the number three position after you hastily took over number two."

Jim gave a tight sarcastic smile "Well that isn't what I heard Michael telling Andy this morning." As he let himself trail off, Dwight leapt from his chair and went parading into Michael's office, slamming the door behind him.

He sighed, relieved at having successfully sending Dwight away. He rewarded himself by checking the clock, yet again. 10:09… that was it? He had only killed another twenty-four minutes of this period?  
Lunch. He was stuck in that mind numbing time awaiting one of his few joys during the work hour. God, it was beginning to sound like he was back in junior high.

He had at least an hour to kill before he could take "lunch" at an appropriate time. He began to ponder this lunchtime, or period, and wondered why this designated time couldn't fluctuate more. Why couldn't 10:10 be a suitable time for eating ones lunch? Why couldn't breakfast, brunch, and lunch all be considerable options?  
If people could only branch out more he would already be eating his Ham and Cheese sandwich. However, he was stuck. Stuck in his period of waiting for lunch, stuck in general.

For a moment he considered emailing Pam about his newfound ideas on lunch, and possibly showing her his latest drawling. No. Things between the two still weren't quite right. Even though a fun sarcastic email would be putting them in the right direction, for some reason he could not take that step.  
Instead he took the memo, folded it in half, and stuck it in his bag. Maybe at a later time it would be a fun thing to give to her; possibly a late Christmas gift, or early birthday.  
He let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. Looking up he caught Karen's eye and forced a smile to his face. Why didn't it feel natural to him? Why couldn't he just let himself be happy with her? He gave up trying to analyze his complicated life of a paper salesman and went back to work.

An hour later he had made one sale. It wasn't a huge one but it wasn't nothing either. He cursed himself for letting his personal life get in the way of work but honestly; it wasn't like he really cared.  
He stood up to go grab his sandwich, ham and cheese. He had tried to stick with tuna, to stick with anything other than what he _used_ to do, but how could he not fall back to that old zone. It just felt right.  
He noticed she too had gone to lunch. He briefly wondered if today would be that day, the day that yet another piece of him fell back into that old pattern. The day he would actually have lunch with her again.

Would he break free of this deranged protection he had enabled, or would yet again coward away into his safe zone.


End file.
